


No Small Feat

by sundermount



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Aged-aged-up characters, Dimilix NSFW Bingo (Fire Emblem), Established Relationship, Feet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:49:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25992430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sundermount/pseuds/sundermount
Summary: This is not Dimitri's late-in-life crisis, no matter what Felix says.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 14
Kudos: 49
Collections: Dimilix NSFW Bingo





	No Small Feat

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Dimilix NSFW bingo (for the Sex Comedy, Old Men Yaoi and Felix’s Feet squares).

“Excuse me?”

Dimitri winces, bracing himself.

“You want to—” Felix looks as if he's swallowed a whole lemon, “—try what?”

He's sitting next to Dimitri, booted foot in Dimitri's lap. Dimitri looks up from undoing the laces to grace Felix with the most beguiling look in his arsenal.

“Is our current manner of coupling so bland you would resort to… proposing this madness? To make things more _interesting_?” Felix’s look of disdain is still unchanged after so many years, the passage of time marked only by the deepened furrow of his brow and the lines along his eyes.

“It’s not like that,” Dimitri protests. “You know I find you as alluring as when we first—”

“Don’t say it.”

“Made _love_ —”

“Goddess above, Dimitri, you know how much I hate that.”

“—but it’s not what you’re thinking,” he finishes, as he slides the boot off Felix’s foot and sets it down. The laces have been undone with no damage to them. Time, Mercedes’ sewing lessons and Felix’s empty threat of never allowing Dimitri to undress him again all proved effective for learning to gentle his hands.

If Dimitri is to be honest, it is exactly as Felix is thinking, although he would never let him in on that. Hearing Sylvain speak of the multiple lewd acts he’d partook in as a younger man gave Dimitri a bit of a horrible feeling that there was much he and Felix had missed out on, even with the acts they'd engaged in.

Could someone even fellate their partner while being held _upside-down_? Would they not get lightheaded, after a while? But something like that would test even Felix’s and his capabilities; hence his fixation on the only act mentioned that involved no extreme athleticism whatsoever.

Feet.

“I just feel there is a lot we have yet to explore, despite our, ah. Adventurousness?”

“That’s certainly a way to describe the time we scandalised those visiting lords when you took me on our balcony.”

“ _Felix_ ,” Dimitri’s cheeks heat, the mortification as fresh as if it was two days and not two years ago. His mouth twists into a small frown. But even so, it is nowhere near acrobatic fellating. 

“I know I haven’t been very forthcoming about my desires in the past, and you have been nothing but encouraging in my journey towards being more straightforward in these matters.” Dimitri digs his thumbs into Felix’s arch, pressing at where he knows Felix is most sore after an entire day on his feet. 

Felix relaxes into Dimitri’s grip before tensing again, suspicious—the massage a once-innocent act tainted by the conversation at hand. “Instead of having to suffer entire months of your dithering?”

Dimitri beams. “Exactly! And your feet are exceedingly beautiful, Felix.” It startles a shocked laugh out of Felix as Dimitri eases his way down to the floor, kneeling before him, hand still on his foot.

He grips with more intent, index finger light along the underside as he pulls it further into his lap. Dimitri then undoes the garter—less tricky than boot laces, but still requiring finesse on his part—and slowly rolls Felix’s stockings down, pressing kisses to his leg as skin is revealed.

Felix yanks his foot away from Dimitri and places it flat on his chest, as if to push him away. He exerts some force into it, eyebrows raised, as Dimitri is urged further down on his knees. He is backlit by the sun from where he is seated, lending him resemblance to a particularly fetching portrait of Saint Seiros the Archbishop has been trying to remove from their office for the better part of their appointment.

“Oh. Hmm.”

Dimitri would offer a prayer of thanks if he were a more religious man. Instead, he grips both foot and ankle, feeling cautiously triumphant. “I agree.”

“I can’t believe what I’m about to agree to. I’m getting soft in my old age.” The years have been extremely kind to him; he remains as breathtaking as ever, his eyes the colour of the sun that sets behind him, his still-dark hair a waterfall down his back and over a jut of collarbone. Dimitri wants to _bite_. Dimitri wants to commission a painting of him like this, half-dressed and arresting in the privacy of their chambers.

He lifts Felix’s foot up, kissing his ankle through cloth and rubbing the side of it against his face. He sets it back down on the floor and makes to get up, only for his knees to immediately protest—one of many things the years have _not_ been kind about.

“I love you too, Felix. Now, um. Before we take this conversation further, would you mind helping me up? I may have made a grievous error by kneeling.”

“Is this what old age does to people? Make them fixate on body parts, to rekindle the flames and passions of youth?” Felix muses as he lies in their bed, propped up against a frankly incredulous number of pillows.

“My desire for you burns as bright as ever,” Dimitri replies in earnest.

Felix groans, sinking further back into the mountain of pillows. Dimitri should’ve put an early end to it and not spoiled him in that regard, but he’d thought it so _charming_ at first, and was happy to encourage the indulgence.

They barely have room left on their bed these days. Felix rarely did things by halves.

Felix begins to detail the many ways he is failing to understand this new desire of Dimitri’s, who tunes him out while making agreeable noises against the skin of his knee. His complaining is only for the sake of it; Felix rarely agrees to anything without an argument or a play at unwillingness. 

Dimitri adores him. He cannot be said to suffer Felix’s posturing if his feelings are that of endearment and exasperation.

He smiles into the length of Felix’s calf, the fine hairs tickling his face. Three decades together, and married for more than half of it. He'd never thought he would get to have something like this, or a life after the war, or grow to be older than his father or Rodrigue before they passed.

Felix finally allows himself to trail off, and Dimitri looks at him. “What are you thinking, my love?”

He scrutinises his feet. “They look like planks,” Felix declares, flexing and cracking his toes.

“Wondrous planks, shaped for me to be worshipped.” Dimitri bites at his ankle bone.

“Dimitri,” he blusters. “I have _hair_ growing on my toes—”

“That you trimmed yesterday night.”

“—and I forget to scrub between them, sometimes.”

“I know,” Dimitri says, cupping his feet tenderly and pressing a gentle kiss to each individual toe. “They smell a bit, especially when you’ve been in your boots for a period of time.”

“YES, Dimitri. Exactly that.” Felix looks up at the ceiling as if his thoughts and prayers would summon the Goddess herself to save him from this. “How is any of that attractive?”

“They are your feet, Felix.” He sucks a big toe into his mouth, before moving to kiss and lick over the arch of his foot. “I find every part of you attractive. Even the hair on your toes.”

“You don’t see me finding your sweaty underarm hair arousing or—or wanting to tongue it.”

They lapse into a contemplative silence.

“Ugh, fine. But that’s because you’re— _you_. There’s not a single part of you that isn’t.” Felix moves to hide his face in his hands, muffling the next words that leave his mouth. “Appealing to me.” 

Dimitri rises up the bed to pull at his wrists and press his forehead against Felix’s. “It is the same for me with you, Felix.” His eyes finally deign to meet Dimitri’s, and his glare is one of embarrassment rather than anger.

His heart swells with fondness as he leans down to kiss Felix, and he cannot help the urge to tease. “How are you still so shy about this? You know you are welcome to my underarm hair whenever you wish.”

Felix shakes Dimitri’s hands off him and contorts himself in a way that allows him to scrape a heel over Dimitri’s cheek. “Shut up and get back to my feet, boar.”

“Not when your heels are this dry.” He sits up, holding Felix’s foot, rubbing his thumb over the cracks and callouses.

“What are you doing.”

Dimitri picks at a bit of hardened, peeling skin on Felix’s foot with his nail. “Does this not hurt?”

“You’re not answering the question.”

“You need to pay more attention to yourself, Felix. It wouldn’t do well for your feet to crack to the point of bleeding again.”

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you.”

He ignores Felix and reaches for one of the jars they keep by their bedside. It contains a paste from the ash of willow bark, meant to soothe; Dimitri had it concocted for Felix during the winters, when his skin was often at the mercy of the cold.

“Thank you.” Felix grumbles. Dimitri scoops a bit out and works it over Felix’s foot, the greasy paste leaving a shine where it touches; along the callused underside, in circles over the heel. 

Felix drags his foot along the skin of Dimitri’s inner wrist. Dimitri shivers, cock plumping against his inner thigh. He pushes a knuckle into the arch, gentles his fingers as they run up Felix’s ankles and his calf before they smooth back down.

He feels Felix arch slightly and drags his hand up the back of his calf to the skin on the back of his knee. Felix arches into the touch.

Dimitri closes his eyes and inhales deep to collect himself before bringing Felix’s other foot into his lap to do the same. Salve, underside, arch, calf. Felix stretches his leg out, eyes half-lidded as he looks down the length of his body at Dimitri. He draws his foot in and pushes it back up to Dimitri in a teasing drag along his inner thigh. Dimitri shivers again as Felix presses his heel up against his balls, and gasps when his cockhead is grasped between Felix’s toes.

He reaches out to touch, so hesitant considering the surety of his grip on it before, hands hovering over it and shaking. “Can I?” He pleads. His hair hangs in his eyes, sweat dampens the back of his neck, and he knows his gaze is sure to be anguished.

“Why else would my foot be there?” Felix runs his toe over his slit, spreading his wetness over the head. He is bewitching, the smirk on his face self-satisfied. On any other day, Dimitri would’ve been unable to resist fucking it off his face.

Instead, he grips Felix’s foot in his hands and presses up against him, choking on his relief. “Thank you. _Thank you_.”

The paste from before helps to slick the way, especially when Felix’s other foot joins the one already on Dimitri; holding his cock between the arches of his feet, sliding up and down again as Dimitri grasps his ankles to make them fit around him tighter, thrusts into their grip.

“Felix, could you—” It’s only been a while, but he is already so close, pressure building in his groin. Felix does a tricky maneuver that allows him to brush the underside of one foot against Dimitri’s sack, before it slides further between his thighs; teasing at his clenched rear, running the toes of his other over the spot on the underside of Dimitri’s cock.

Dimitri feels maddened with want for relief; he is so close he can practically taste it, unable to focus on everything happening to him at once.

Felix’s foot drags along his rear again. “Relax, boar.”

Dimitri grits his teeth and does his best as he draws his hips back in preparation for another thrust against the foot still on his cock. Felix’s foot slides between his rear cheeks, and his toe presses up against where Dimitri has—on his birthdays, special occasions and every other Saturday—had the pleasure to receive Felix.

The fuck of his hips against and back into Felix is frenzied, before he finally stills and releases all over Felix’s foot. He immediately collapses forward, Felix catching him in time and rolling him over onto his pillows.

Dimitri feels dazed.

“Felix.”

“Dimitri.”

“ _Felix_.”

“That’s my name.”

Dimitri manages to summon enough energy to peck the nearest bit of Felix he can reach, which turns out to be his shoulder. Felix lifts a hand to stroke at his hair while Dimitri tries to catch his breath.

“Thank you, Felix. That was the most... intense it’s been for me, in a while.”

“Don’t thank me. I can feel my calves cramping, you deserve a foot to the face for what you just made me do—”

“I could never force you into anything you didn’t want, Felix.”

“—if it didn’t serve as encouragement. I’m not in the habit of rewarding undesirable behaviour.” The smile on his face as he turns on his side to face Dimitri, however, says otherwise. He runs a leg up Dimitri’s calf, pressing their bodies together—

Felix pulls back, his gaze darting between them before returning to Dimitri. “How in the name of the Goddess are you still aroused?”

Dimitri feels his face heat and does not look down at where Felix’s foot has crept up, to nudge against him once again.

“You haven’t been up for a second round this fast since—”

“Yes.” His cock jumps as he gently hazards a thrust, still sensitive this soon after spending. “It has been a while.”

At their age, being able to achieve and maintain one’s hardness was already a feat. To have done that and spent, and _still_ remain as he is... 

Felix's look is one of purposeful indifference. “It would be a shame if we didn’t take advantage of it.”

“Ah—I suppose.” His cock’s reaction is the complete opposite of his reply, twitching once against Felix, hard. “Whatever you’re willing to give, my dearest.”

“For you,” he leans forward to kiss Dimitri, “whatever you will dare to ask of me.”

**Author's Note:**

> finger guns. sorry about felix's hairy toes.
> 
> some additional notes:
> 
> \- stockings here are pretty much just... socks. unfortunately, this does not check off the lingerie box.  
> \- medieval foot care did exist. in addition to ash of willow bark, people also used swine dung and intestinal fluid from a calf’s stomach.


End file.
